


Sigils

by Jade56



Category: Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Devotion, First Time, M/M, Protectiveness, Secrets, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 14:30:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8536774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jade56/pseuds/Jade56
Summary: Questions are raised when Bertie finds angel-warding sigils hidden around the flat. Naturally, Jeeves has all the answers, but he proves reluctant to share them.





	

It was an otherwise ordinary morning when I dropped a pair of rather slippery cufflinks, knelt on the floor to retrieve the little blighters, and spotted a bizarre drawing done in white chalk under the boards of my bed, just barely made visible by light reflecting off one of the pieces I sought.

One might expect a carpenter’s forgotten note, perhaps, of some measurement, or perhaps even a mark of ownership under the boards. This drawing couldn’t pretend to be of those types. It was a purposeful arrangement of lines, with a distinctly circular and symmetrical design.

Strangely, something about the lines gave me a feeling of foreboding, like how one feels when one sees scheming aunts approaching like an army over the hillside. Indeed, the drawing brought to mind the spells of witches and other such sinister beings I had read about in storybooks as a child.

I knew the drawing couldn’t be anything like a spell, of course. I decided that some kid, or perhaps one of those fellows with artistic temperaments, had drawn it on at some point in the bedframe’s life. It occurred to me to wipe the thing off, or put the task up to my man Jeeves when he was finished with the marketing, but by the time I’d attached my cufflinks and grabbed my hat, I’d completely forgotten about the drawing, and was tottering off to my club without any witches weighing on my mind.

The marking might have vanished forever from the old noggin if I had not found a similar bit of art just a few days later. I was looking for my letter opener, which was ordinarily handled by Jeeves. This was his evening off, so he was not around to be asked as to its whereabouts. I never did find the letter opener, but I did discover another hieroglyphic drawing, composed in chalk at the back of my desk drawer.

I was pretty sure that this desk had nothing in common with the bedframe, other than its belonging to one Wooster, B., so I was stumped by this discovery. Making a rather good imitation of a pensive statue on my chair, I tried to remember if someone had ever had the means or opportunity to scrawl with chalk in hidden places in my place of residence. I supposed a few of my friends could have got away with a scrawl or two, but why in the world would any of them do such a thing?

At first I couldn’t think of anything, but after contemplating the problem for a while, a different question occurred to me: were there more drawings around? I had found these two entirely by accident, so it seemed to me that there might be other secret markings lying unseen. No doubt that would have been the first thing to occur to Jeeves, being the brainy cove he is, but he wasn’t there to help. In any case, now that I’d finally thought of it, I could take a look for myself.

As it turned out, there were a number of similar markings in the flat, all in places the Wooster eye wouldn’t have typically peeked at. There was one in the window, and another inside the piano.

It can’t be said that I was pleased by these findings. Rummy business, finding graffiti secreted away in one’s own home! Is nothing sacred anymore?

I checked any reference books I could find in the flat, though the only thing I learned is that searching for any information about an image is dashed difficult. Listings on actual hieroglyphics weren’t very helpful, and nothing on symbols seemed to resonate with what I had found.

After taking another reference book from the shelf, I noticed one of the storybooks I’d read as a child behind it, and just like that, inspiration struck. I decided to peruse the storybook instead, and I was stunned to find an image strikingly similar to the ones scrawled in chalk around my flat. The sketch belonged to a fable about not listening to demons, or something along that theme.

Not being much interested in the moral lesson at the moment, I skimmed through the tale to find an explanation for the marking. Apparently, it was something called a warding sigil, which the demon used to keep pesky angels away. Serious stuff for a child’s fable, I thought.

Folding my arms, I wondered if I’d upset some superstitious person of my acquaintance, who had found revenge by warding my flat from angels, or if it was all just some odd coincidence.

Just then, I heard the front door open, and saw the majestic form of Jeeves enter the flat. “Good evening, sir,” he greeted, with the slightest note of surprise. “I had thought you intended to go out to your club.”

“Oh, I did mean to zip to the Drones, didn’t I?” Caught up in this sigil business, I’d forgotten all about going out. I glanced at the late hour on the clock and realised that, occupied by my investigation as I had been, more time had passed than I’d thought.

Jeeves placed his bowler on the hat rack—which he always managed to do with the grace of someone in a hat rack advertisement—and glanced at the reference books I’d left strewn over the floor. Without a moment of hesitation, he started picking up the objects. “I cannot help but observe that you have been perusing a number of books, sir. Was there some subject you were interested in learning more about?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact. Oh, you really don’t need to tidy up after me, Jeeves,” I told him, seeing that he meant to pick up the whole lot. “It’s your night off, after all.”

“It is no trouble, sir.” He paused as he noticed some of the pages that the reference books had been opened to. “I had not known that you had an interest in hieroglyphic writing, sir.”

“Oh, no, not generally, but I’ve found some strange symbols hidden around the flat, if you can believe it.” If Jeeves found this statement remarkable, he made no outward indication of it. “I scoured these books front and back, until I finally found what I was looking for in my old storybook, of all places. It seems like we might have an inexplicable infestation of angel-warding sigils.”

Finally, Jeeves slowed a tad in his tidying. “I beg your pardon, sir?”

“You heard me right, Jeeves: angel-warding sigils. They’re some kind of magic used to keep the winged folk away, if you believe in magic, and the winged folk. I suppose some hooligan got a laugh out of keeping angels out of the flat. At least it seems that this hooligan only used chalk, which isn’t too hard to get rid of.”

This time, Jeeves stopped entirely, and his voice was suddenly more insistent than before. “Did you remove the sigils, sir?”

“Um, no,” I answered, surprised by this burst of seriousness.

Whatever his concern was, it seemed to be allayed by this answer, but he was still rather serious about the whole matter. Returning to his tidying with more purpose than before, he said, “Do not concern yourself with the symbols, sir.”

Ah, this explained things. My man needed lorries to lug around the heaps of feudal spirit he possessed; of course he wouldn’t let the young master do anything he could do for me. “Oh, you mean you’ll remove them?”

“No, sir,” he said, leaving me confused once again. “The symbols must stay where they are. I regret that you found them, sir, as they have worried you unnecessarily. You need not concern yourself with them. Please remove them from your mind.”

When I considered what his words suggested, my mouth fell open in astonishment. “I say, Jeeves, are you implying that _you_ were the one who drew angel-warding sigils, if that’s what they are, in the flat?”

“As I said, sir, you need not concern yourself with them. I have deliberately placed them out of the way so that the sight of them need not bother you. Would you care for some tea, sir?”

I had questions, needless to say, but Jeeves refused to answer any of them. He continued to inform me that the sigils were nothing I needed to give a fig about, and whenever I tried to find out more from him, he would only offer to bring me some blasted tea.

Well, it took me some time once again to think it all through, and a few more read-throughs of the old storybook, but eventually, I came to a conclusion.

Jeeves was a demon. He had to be, or else he wouldn’t have cared about sigils of any description. This meant that demons and angels were real creatures, and my man, being of the former type, must have warded the flat to protect himself from the latter.

When one works out that one employs a demon valet, one can be expected to be somewhat disturbed. I can’t say that I was overly surprised, though. Not that there was anything unseemly about Jeeves, but he did possess an incredible, almost inhuman intelligence and finesse. Why a demon valet, who must undoubtedly have some neat demonic abilities, would waste his time serving me was a question I couldn’t answer, but then again, I had always wondered why the incredible Jeeves bothered to serve me, even before this supernatural stuff.

I lied awake at night in my apparently angel-warded bed and pondered my unanswered questions. Turning onto my side and holding a pillow to my chest, I asked myself, if I was a brilliant demon valet, why would I serve a plain master?

Once again putting the Wooster brain to work, the best I could come up with was that I was ashamed of what I was and might not think myself worthy of much better.

I thought, clutching the pillow a little tight, that this had to be the ticket—the pitiful, undesirable ticket.

As I went about my day, I now watched Jeeves dust, press, and shimmer with a grand new understanding. Here was a man who had to be so terribly upset with what he was that he couldn’t bring himself to be a great poet or scientist or something. How badly he must think of himself, if he had settled for this oafish young master.

“You’re a corking valet, Jeeves,” I told him one evening, when he brought me a blanket while I was sitting by the fire. “Thank you very much.”

He wasn’t smiling, exactly, but he seemed heartened by my words. “You’re welcome, sir.”

“Truly, you’re a paragon of valets—a paragon of men, if I may say so.”

“Sir,” he said modestly, and I could have sworn that there was some flush of colour in his cheeks. He was really quite a handsome chap already, and this certainly didn’t make him any less fetching to the eye. “You are too kind.”

I adjusted myself on the chesterfield, so I could speak to him more directly. “What I want to get across, Jeeves, is that it doesn’t matter what you are. I know you’re a good man, and, well, I just don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“Sir?”

“You see,” I began, taking a deep breath, “I know you’re a demon, or something of the kind. That’s why you drew those seals or sigils or what have you in the flat, right?”

He had grown silent, and his face gave away zilch as to how he felt about my realisation.

“It’s really no problem,” I hurried to add. “I don’t mind if you’re a demon. It shouldn’t hold you back. That’s what I wanted you to know, Jeeves. You don’t have to limit yourself to this young master just because of what you are.”

“Have I failed to meet your expectations in some way, sir?”

My eyebrows nearly shot out of my head at this impossible idea. I couldn’t even fathom it. “Oh, no, not at all! If I had things my way, you’d stay in this flat with me for the rest of time.”

All right, I confess that I said more than I meant to with that statement, but fortunately, he didn’t look too much into it, for he was appeased.

“You have always been very kind, sir. I appreciate that you are willing to overlook the type of creature I am, and if it is to your satisfaction, then I would be content to remain in your service.”

An unexpected wave of relief flooded the chest at this point, but it was moderated by the knowledge that Jeeves would probably be happier somewhere else. “Oh, do you mean that? You couldn’t possibly mean that. I was certain you were only working for me because you didn’t think yourself worthy of much else.”

“Sir, it is _this_ position that I am not worthy of.” He respectfully clasped his hands, and lowered his face. “If I am, as you have evidently deduced, a demon,” here his voice became noticeably rougher, “a detestable creature of sin, then surely I do not deserve to be treated as kindly as you treat me.”

Now I could see more clearly than ever that he was putting himself down. My hands came down loudly in their appropriate indignation onto the chesterfield. “My word! You, a detestable creature of sin? You’re nothing of the kind. Perish the thought.”

“But, as you have said, I am a demon, sir.” Quietly, he added, “I am indecent by nature.”

“Indecent! You don’t know the meaning of the word.”

“And you do, sir?”

I shut up like a clam, wishing very fervently that I hadn’t said so much.

The truth was that I was terribly indecent. That thought I had earlier about my valet being handsome and fetching was par for the course for yours truly. I had shameful thoughts of my alluring valet dashed often, and that’s not including the only passably acceptable thoughts about his intelligence and charm.

I feared that he might have seen the look of guilt that I probably wasn’t very good at hiding, as he looked at me with comprehension. “For a demon,” he said, in a tone that was awfully forgiving, “some amount of sin is a necessary part of life. It is healthy, in a manner of speaking. If some form of indecency is troubling your soul, sir, then it might benefit us both if you were to confide in me.”

“Jeeves! I never said I was indecent.”

“You did not deny it, sir.”

I was silent for a moment, unsure of what to do, but his astute eyes and sagacious brow were still so terribly, horribly full of forgiveness.

“You truly aren’t human, Jeeves?”

“That is correct, sir.”

He closed his eyes for a moment.

Suddenly the room became much brighter, and it wasn’t because of the fire. Astonished and perplexed, I looked around for an on obvious cause, and found none. The peculiar phenomenon didn’t last very long, however, winking out as quickly as it came.

“I hesitate to show you anything else, sir, for fear of being discovered or sensed by those I am trying to avoid, but rest assured that I am not human.”

“Gosh, Jeeves. So you really are a demon. And you really wouldn’t think badly of me if I wasn’t decent?”

“Knowing as much of sin as I do, sir, I could not possibly be startled by anything you tell me.”

It wasn’t too strange to think that, being a demon, Jeeves had heard worse, and he wouldn’t be too upset with me. It would be wonderful to finally share my heart’s woes, but I wasn’t so sure that I should do so with the person who put my heart in such straits, even if no other confidant was available.

I couldn’t keep looking at him, and though I wanted so badly to tell him everything, I could barely speak. “I’m afraid you’ll find me more sinful than even you’re used to.”

“I suspect, sir, that you are not at all sinful.” Jeeves placed a hand on my cheek, guiding me to meet his gaze once more. “I can recognise sin, sir, and I do not recognise it in you.”

His eyes were so bright and beautiful that I could hardly think. “In that case,” I murmured, “I don’t know if you’re a proper demon, Jeeves. You’ve got it wrong.”

“Perhaps, then, sir, your sin is something harmless, nothing truly harmful or obscene.” His hand moved lower to touch my chin, making me ache for the dreams where he would lean in and kiss me. “You were worried that I thought little of myself, sir,” he noted, in that composed and noble voice that I adored so dearly, “but clearly, it is not I who thinks too little of myself.”

So glad was I to have his hand on my face that I couldn’t bring myself to look away, and yet I could barely stand the heat rising in my face, and in all the rest of me.

“Please stop touching me, Jeeves,” I whispered. The words were not easy ones, since I longed desperately for any little touch he’d bung at me, and yet, if this continued, I knew I wouldn’t be able to behave like the _preux chevalier_ that a Wooster ought to be. “You’re only making it worse.”

He did move his hand away, though not very far. “Making _what_ worse, sir?”

“Well, you know, the sin, and whatnot. You’re so bally brilliant and beautiful, and…” I sighed. “Dash it, Jeeves. Do I have to say it out loud?”

I thought he would get the idea and clear out, but if anything, he moved a little closer. “Is your sin of a lustful nature, sir?”

He was so close that I could have easily reached out and touched him, though somehow I resisted the impulse, perhaps because it was such a familiar feeling, one that I was used to, one that I’d felt so many times when I was near him.

“There’s no need for mockery, Jeeves,” I muttered. “Aren’t demons supposed to know all about the sinful thoughts that plague pathetic specimens like the young master? I’m sure you know fully well what goes on in the Wooster bean!”

Surely I wasn’t being fair to my man—for all I knew, demons knew nada about pathetic specimens and their disagreeable thoughts—but he was still so outrageously forgiving.

“I only wish that I did, sir,” he whispered. “As I said, what you think of as sin is, to me, a natural part of life. What you might think of as a transgression against the rules of propriety is merely a need to be fulfilled in my eyes. Do you think you will offend me, sir? What could I know of human moral law?”

“Jeeves,” I said weakly. My restraint only went so far.

“I would be only too pleased to satisfy you in this regard, sir, as in any other.”

I managed a pathetic, half-hearted chuckle. “Now I know you are putting yourself down, if you’re settling for the young master in this matter!”

“Even a demon cannot fail to recognise beauty and kindness, sir, when presented with someone possessing them in such abundance.”

I turned back at him, then, if only to stare in shock. “My word, you’ll give me a big head if you keep talking that rot,” I said, trying to fight a smile. I couldn’t believe his praise. “You’re certainly not the brute I thought demons were supposed to be, Jeeves.”

Turning back him to him had been a top-mark mistake, because he was as steadfast and gorgeous as ever. He searched my face, probably not finding very much, but not being too upset with whatever he found. “If I were truly such a brute, sir, then I would already be holding you close to me, kissing you as deeply as I could, and fulfilling every desire in you that you believe to be sinful.”

Here was my handsome, brilliant, devoted demon valet looking into my eyes and telling me such stirring things, so I think that will explain why I couldn’t resist tugging at his arm, drawing him close to me, and sharing a corker of a kiss, though I still found it all very hard to believe.

I was expecting (perhaps with a tiny spot of excitement, if I’m being honest) some show of demonic power from him, some little flame here or burst of light there that would let me know that my valet really did desire me with a dominant passion.

What I got was nothing like that, though still no less wonderful. He guided me to lie down, asked me if I would care to receive pleasure from him, and when I somehow managed to answer in the affirmative in what was no doubt a stunned and graceless formation of noise, he opened my trousers and slipped a much too capable hand down where it was needed.

It was almost more than I could bear, and yet he was so incredibly tender with me.

“Oh, Jeeves, my God.” I couldn’t help the moans that escape me, nor the nervous chattering that unfortunately found its way out too. “You’re so gentle… Not what I expected from a demon…”

“Am I being too gentle, sir?”

“Not at all, and, and you really don’t have to call me sir, I’m just, s-surprised—Oh, goodness…”

“Do not be surprised, sir. I am doing everything I can to restrain myself.” He leaned in to my ear, and whispered, “Your sin is beautiful. Every part of me is demanding to take you, sir.”

His hand started to move more fully, and without my intending it, my hips followed each movement. “Ah, well, do as you would, dear thing.”

I was expecting, once again with no absence of positive feelings, that he would flip me over, but again, my man surprised me, and he leaned down, grasped my hips, and took me in his mouth, by Jove.

Any rational thought I had left cut out right about then, if you don’t count the incoherent bits about how lovely Jeeves was, how generous and brilliant and more than I could have ever wished for, not to mention the heaping of recrimination toward self for giving into my base feelings like this when Jeeves deserved so much better than a vapid, witless excuse for a human.

It’s really a fortunate thing, having a demon valet—he doesn’t judge and, apparently, his standards are low. Jeeves took many opportunities to please the young master after that evening, and what was even more shocking was that he seemed to not be at all bothered by my sentimental feelings.

I was, to my great joy, even able to get him to flip me over on occasion, which seemed to be to his liking as well, yet somehow he seemed guilty about it afterward. I ascribed this interpretation to my poor interpreting, as a demon couldn’t possibly feel guilt.

Since he was a demon, I wasn’t sure if the sentimental side of things was at all there on his end, especially since he seemed to shy away from such intimate gestures as actually sharing my bed, but it certainly was on mine. Getting into the proper spirit of courtship, if that’s what this was, I had an angel-warding amulet made for my man. It was the perfect gift, I fancied—practical and elegant, just like Jeeves. I thought it would show him that I was serious about my feelings for him, that this wasn’t a passing whim or anything like that.

“I cannot wear this, sir,” he informed me plainly, once I presented him with the item.

“You don’t like it?” Disappointment fell over me like a dark cloud, but I tried to stay bucked. I placed the item on the table. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to show you how I feel. I know you’re a demon and all, but I do care so much about you, even if that part of things can’t be so important to you. Can I get you something else that you will like better?

“Sir,” he said warmly, “I do care for you, more than you could know. I’m afraid you don’t understand me, sir. I appreciate this gift deeply, but it is beyond my ability to wear it. I am not a demon. I am an angel, sir.”

This took a few moments to sink in. I thought he might be joking, but he looked positively sincere, and besides, Jeeves isn’t usually the joking sort.

“An angel? I say! That’s not at all like a demon, is it?”

“No, sir.”

Confused, I asked, “But what about that time you made the room brighter?”

“That was a slight showing of my halo, sir.”

“Oh, I see. Then where are your wings?”

“Hidden, sir. They tend to draw unwanted attention, and additionally, are rather private. Perhaps I may show them to you someday, if you would like.”

“Oh, well there’s an idea…” I shook my head, so that I wouldn’t become too distracted. “But what about those angel-warding whatsits? An angel wouldn’t need them, or want them, for that matter. They’d keep you away!”

“They only hinder me in certain areas, and they are for your sake, not mine.”

“Why? I don’t need protecting from you.”

“It is not me who is the threat to you, sir, but other angels. They generally consider themselves to be enemies of all sources of demonic power, sir.”

He gave me a long, regretful look, and suddenly it registered.

“Oh, goodness, Jeeves, am I a demon?”

“Not exactly, sir. Though you have not been made aware of this fact until now, you are a warlock, a human imbued with power that allows you to manipulate demons. You have been since you were an infant.” I must have presented quite a picture of shock, because he placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. “I was the angel assigned to watch over you, sir. It was thought that you might be used in the conflict against demons, but over time, the angels came to distrust any sort of demonic power, including your own, and the project of utilising your power was terminated, as were you to be, sir.”

“Hold on a tick. They wanted to terminate me? I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Neither did I. It is true that at first, I found the task of protecting you to be distasteful, sir, if you pardon me for saying so. I have never cared for children, particularly warlock children. Yet you were always kind, sir. You were a kind young boy, and then you became a kind young man.”

“Oh, Jeeves,” I said, blushing.

“I came to admire you greatly, sir, and even if I had not, I could not let my brethren end your life. When it was decided that you were becoming a liability rather than an asset, I became your valet, so that I might be closer to you and protect you from the other angels.”

“What a story! You’d think a chap would need protecting from demons instead of angels.”

“It is all true, sir, and fortunately, protecting you from demons is hardly necessary. They naturally fear you, and prefer to stay out of your vicinity entirely.”

All this was taking its time to process in my mind, but one thing did occur to me. “If I’ve some power to protect myself from these demons, does that mean I protect myself from the angels, too?”

“You possibly could. Such would require training. You would need to learn how to use your power.”

“Well then, why not? That sounds like a spiffing idea.”

The old stuffed-frog look fell over his face, and he let his hand fall from my shoulder. “I could not advise it.” He took a step back toward the sideboard, and spent some time inspecting it. “Would you care for some tea, sir? I can have a cup of Darjeeling prepared for you in a moment.”

“Jeeves,” I said, determined not to let the matter drop, “why shouldn’t I learn how to use my power?”

This time, I grasped his hand. The stuffed-frog expression slipped away, bringing back my gentle, devoted Jeeves. His hand squeezed mine.

“I am content to be your protector, sir,” he murmured at last. “If you learned how to protect yourself, then it would not be necessary for you to keep me here.”

“Oh, Jeeves.” The loyalty of my man was something that always astounded me, and certainly it did now. “Why can’t I protect you, too?”

“Sir?”

“You mean the world to me. Teach me how to use my power or find something I can learn from, and then we can protect each other, can’t we?”

He smiled a little, and it was a beautiful sight.

I returned the expression in spades, though I soon remembered the now-useless object I’d left on the table. “Well, what should I do with the amulet now? I never want to be warded from you, my angel.”

That brightened his smile a little more, which made me feel even better. “You should keep it. There may be a time when you need it, sir.”

“From other angels, you mean. I could never use it against you. Oh! I just realised something! Is this why you haven’t come to my bed? You’ve warded the thing against yourself!”

“That was hardly a difficult decision to make, sir. To do such protected you while you were vulnerable in sleep and I was not there to protect you, and coincidentally kept me from ever deluding myself into believing that your bed might ever be a suitable place for myself. I have loved you for a long time, sir.”

I had no idea about this, and learning of it nearly overwhelmed me, though I was still able to give him a sound smooch and tight embrace.

“Well,” I said, as soon as I’d regained breath after our kiss, which did take a little while, “if you’re there to protect me, then that won’t be a problem, not to mention this amulet that I can wear if I’m alone, so I say we rub that sigil right off the bed.”

His hands sweetly covering mine, he shook his head. “It is not my place, sir. I may not be a demon, but I am a sinful creature nonetheless, and that has never been what you are. It is one thing for you to find solace in your valet’s company, and quite another to let him share your bed. I should not like to become accustomed to thinking of myself as your equal, sir.”

That was absolute rubbish, and I had no qualms about telling him so. “That’s absolute rubbish, Jeeves. And really, that’s enough with that _sir_ business, don’t you think? Besides, if I’m a warlock,” I added, with a grin, “then that makes me the sinful one, doesn’t it?”

“I never meant to suggest that—”

“No, but I’m suggesting it. You know, when I learn how to use that power, I’ll use it to protect you, and keep you here with me, if that’s all right with you, and cherish you forever, again, if that’s all right with you, and I’ll use all that sinful power to take better care of you than you’ve ever imagined.” Shyness caught up to me just a moment too late. “If that’s all right with you.”

“That would be more than all right,” he said softly, giving my forehead a few loving kisses, which became more heated as he moved lower, making me feel like the luckiest young master to ever find out that he was actually a warlock and his valet actually an angel.

Granted, there might not be many fellows who fit that bill, but I still mean to say, I felt exceptionally lucky.

End~


End file.
